The Promise

Final

Sweat beads down my bare chest as I frantically pull on my clothes, trying to shield myself from the prying eyes of Megan Foster and her minion on the other side of the locker room wall. I can hear their voices, one unfamiliar yet still menacing, while Megan's taunting tone cuts through me like a knife. Memories flood back of the torment she put me through, making my life a living hell until my mental breakdown. Now, I'm infamous at school and no one dares to approach me unless absolutely necessary. But I can feel their judging gazes burning into me even through the walls, reminding me that I'll never escape her grasp.

Megan's voice reverberated through the air, sending chills down my spine. "You wouldn't believe what happened to me today," she exclaimed, her words laced with excitement and mystery.

In a flurry of movement, I yank my shirt over my head and stuff my gym clothes into my backpack. My heart races as I race to get out of the school before she spots me. Every footstep echoes in the empty hallways, the sound of my own panicked breaths filling my ears. I can almost feel her eyes on me, watching my every move. The tension is thick in the air, making it difficult to swallow. I pray that I'll make it out unnoticed, my backpack weighing heavily on my shoulders as a constant reminder of my escape attempt.

"Did he finally talk to you?"

I hear the metallic clang of locker doors closing and the muffled chatter of girls as they walk past my aisle. Their sneakers squeak against the shiny tiled floor, creating a rhythmic pattern that grates on my nerves. The noise gradually fades until the room is eerily quiet. I strain to listen as Megan and another girl lower their voices to barely audible whispers.

Megan's voice rang out in excitement, grating against my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. A wave of bitterness rose in me, wishing I could tear her down just as she had done to me. Or maybe it was just plain old jealousy creeping in. "Finally!" she exclaimed, her voice dripping with eagerness. "He's unbelievably attractive, and those eyes...I can't even handle it." Her words were laced with infatuation, causing a surge of resentment within me.

"Oh, I know. It's to bad we have to wait until after summer break to see him again."

The words spilled from her lips like poison, dripping with pride and smugness. "I have his number," she boasted, the anticipation of playing with someone's emotions evident in her tone. "I'll call him next week, pretend to be bored and see if he falls for it." Her voice was laced with manipulation and a cruel game played at the expense of another's feelings.

I can't listen to this any longer. Grabbing my stuff, I close my gym locker as quiet as I can, and sneak out the heavy gym doors.

I lower myself onto the wooden bench, the surface slightly rough against my palms. My brother's dusty Blazer looms beside me, a reminder of his absence and my current wait. I reach into my bag and pull out a well-worn book, its pages dog-eared and cover creased from years of love. As I settle in for what I anticipate will be a long wait for my brother, my stomach tightens with a familiar ache as I think of my twin. My thoughts are interrupted when the boy from lunch appears, taking a seat beside me for the second time today. He settles in close, his backpack finding a spot on the ground between us. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with freshly cut grass envelopes me, calming my nerves.

"Hey, AJ." he says coolly.

"Hi." I whisper hesitantly, my voice barely above a breath. Glancing over my shoulder at him, I feel a strange pull towards him, the same feeling I had experienced during lunch when his eyes caught the sunlight and seemed to sparkle. A long moment passes, but it feels like an eternity as I try to break free from his mesmerizing gaze. Finally realizing that I've been staring for far too long, I quickly redirect my gaze to the book in my lap. My heart races, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being caught in such a vulnerable state.

There is a long pause before he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a notebook. He flips to a blank page and scribbles down a seven-digit number. Above it, he writes: "It was great having lunch with you." He tears the page out of his notebook and hands it to me before standing up and strolling across the school lawn.

"There you are!" I hear a familiar voice behind me, as two hands slap down onto my shoulders.